


Tiptoe That Little Line

by mrsprobie



Category: Criminal Minds, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angry Kissing, F/M, Magic Revealed, Minor Character Death, POV Third Person, Slap Slap Kiss, Two Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-25
Updated: 2017-07-25
Packaged: 2018-12-07 00:08:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11611812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrsprobie/pseuds/mrsprobie
Summary: There's an old saying about the thin line between love and hate. Rossi and Granger have been tiptoeing it for far too long, and when she breaks some news to the team, they blur the line a bit. Two-shot.





	1. Chapter 1

Hermione glanced nervously from face to face, examining the reactions of her colleagues. Her supervisor, Aaron Hotchner, already knew, of course - he was a wizard himself and had been hearing her name in the wizarding news since she was a teenager. Reid was, for once, dumbfounded. Hermione could guess what had him shocked - not only the existence of magic, but that he hadn't figured it out himself, with his boss  _and_  a close coworker having magical abilities. Morgan was in slight awe. Prentiss had a surprising confession: she was a Squib. Not even Hotch had known. All of her team's reactions were positive or neutral.

Well, all except Agent Rossi's.

Rossi had always been a thorn in her side, and she hadn't exactly expected him to be any different in this situation. While he occasionally acted like a human being, he was typically arrogant, sarcastic, and just somehow vaguely  _irritating_. The two of them had been at each other's throats since the day he came out of retirement, fighting like bratty first years every chance they got.

No, rather than reeling in shock or dropping to his knees in awe, Rossi simply seethed. He was bloody  _seething_.

"And you couldn't have used this to help out on any cases?" Rossi demanded, brows furrowed.

"Dav-" Hotch began, but Hermione cut him off.

"Rossi, believe me, I would have if I had thought it appropriate. And there are a number of situations in which I  _did_  use mag-"

"But you could have helped more!" he said, stepping forward. The team wasn't in the usual conference room; this room was sound-proofed. Unfortunately, it also lacked a table, allowing Rossi to advance towards her unhindered. She took a half a moment to wonder why he was upset at her but not at Hotch before deciding on a blend of misogyny and a simple distaste for her. "All those victims who died when with a wave of that wand you could've-"

She stepped toward him, cutting him off even through the burn of knowing that she was giving him the satisfaction of getting to her. "There are restrictions on the usage of magic in the presence of Muggles, Rossi, I  _just_  told you that." Admittedly, she said it a bit more sharply than she probably should have.

"Hermione, David, calm down," Hotch said, his voice deadly calm. Hermione threw him a glance, but he seemed more focused on Rossi than on her.

"What you just  _told_  me," Rossi said - and when she looked back at him, his face was even closer than before - "is that use of magic around Muggles is restricted to keep us from being aware of your world." His eyes glistened with rage. "Using magic to help heal a victim in need without anyone being any the wiser would not have violated any of the laws you just-"

"You complete ass," she muttered. His jaw visibly tightened. She bit the inside of my right cheek before continuing. "None of you are unintelligent enough to not realize something as odd as victims being healed of fatal injuries. I would have been found out in half a second if I'd tried that."

"We  _would_  have known something strange was going on," Reid conceded. She didn't acknowledge him.

"And we would've known you were a witch," Rossi said, the veins in his neck visible by this point. "Which is exactly what we know now. The only difference would be all the men, women, and children whose lives you would have saved."

Hermione didn't respond, choosing instead to glare at him with the same easy fire she would've managed for Lucius Malfoy on a court day. He returned the look, positively glowering. Then, they snapped.

Their lips met forcefully, tongues sensually dancing the masochism tango. He tasted vaguely of cinnamon and she reminded herself to steal some gum from his desk later; the scent of his aftershave filled her nostrils, and with significant effort she tore herself away from his lips.

Ignoring the looks they were receiving from our coworkers, she walked calmly out of the conference room, closing the door firmly behind her.

The room seemed to hold its breath, and then:

"What the hell was that?" Hotch demanded. Rossi looked from the closed door to his boss, then back to the door, his mouth agape but beginning to show a small smile.

"I have no idea, Hotch," he said, still staring at the exit Granger had just taken. "But you couldn't pay me enough to ask her."


	2. Six Months Earlier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Six months earlier, some sniping between David and Hermione, but also a rare wholesome moment.

As of that morning, four women had died almost identical deaths in and around Birmingham, Alabama, in the last ten days. Each was a seemingly happy housewife, three with children and one whose husband said they'd been trying. Each was found in a bathroom with her head bent over an open container - a bowl or a bucket - filled about halfway. Each was surrounded by cleaning supplies.

The county had called the first one a suicide. The next was considered an unfortunate copycat by a depressed woman. After the third, the local law enforcement had been spooked enough to call in the FBI; they wanted to know if they were dealing with a suicide epidemic or something more sinister. Shortly before the BAU's flight took off, the fourth woman was found by her oldest child - the high school senior had driven herself home from school, claiming she had a flu (while talking to the police, she'd admitted she knew it was allergies and had been avoiding a calculus quiz).

At the station, roles were handed out: David held back a smile when Hotch paired him with Granger to head to the coroner's. It was only the grim nature of the task that made it possible: they were to get as much information as possible on the states of the bodies, exact causes of death, and anything else they could get out of the office.

They left the station together, both walking briskly towards the SUV, and it began.

"I'll drive," he said.

She stopped in her tracks and raised a brow. "You do know I  _have_  a license in this country, right?"

He kept walking, not even looking back, although he was sure it was a sight to behold. "Just get in," he called. He loved getting her riled up - her hair seemed to get bigger the more he did it, and he swore that when she got angry enough, the air started to crackle.

They took the drive slow, going over the details they had. "No official COD yet," he started. "What are you thinking?"

"Well," Granger started, "with the cleaning supplies positioned next to the victim, we can assume that's what's in the bucket. Anyone could tell you not to put your head over a vat of chemicals, so why do they do it?"

David smirked. "Are you suggesting cause of death is stupidity?"

He could practically feel the ice of her glare. "Not for them, but you may be in the running soon." A huffy breath. "I'm  _suggesting_  cause of death is some kind of poisoning. Someone incapacitates these women, then places them over toxic fumes to die."

"Sounds reasonable." The rest of the ride was spent reviewing the names, ages, occupations, and family situations of the victims. Fast access to information could prove invaluable.

The coroner's office was quiet and unassuming, in direct opposition to the coroner himself. He was a beefy red-headed man with a thick neck who initially spoke only to David.

"Jerry Michaels, county coroner." His grip was a little too tight, his handshake a little too forceful, his grin a little too big. "You are?"

"Agent David Rossi, FBI."

Michaels turned to Granger, and his eyes slid over her appraisingly. She stiffened, clearly uncomfortable, but held her hand out for him to shake and said, "Agent Granger."

Michaels didn't take her hand, instead taking another slow, leering visual stroll down her body. "I didn't know they let girls as pretty as you into the FBI," Michaels drawled.

Granger's lips pursed, but she didn't seem to have a reply.

"I'd recommend against sexually harassing federal officers," David warned, and both Michaels and Granger's heads whipped over to look at him. "Looks bad to the electorate."

Michaels, predictably, had gone at least a shade paler. Granger rolled her eyes, but the comment appeared to have helped: her posture straightened, and she started in on the questioning. David let her take the lead, writing down the coroner's answers in his little notebook.  _Chlorine gas poisoning. Ammonia + bleach present at all scenes._  He couldn't wait for her to try to rip him a new one later. She was a competent agent, and if she wouldn't defend herself against the likes of that creep, he damn sure would, even if he knew she'd be pissed about it.

Sure enough, Granger stopped him in the parking lot beside the SUV. Her arms were crossed, her hair was frizzy, her eyes were sharp, and she looked like a vision. "I could have told him off on my own," she said shortly.

David knew he had to remain calm to win this. "You weren't going to."

"It isn't your -"

"I wasn't going to let him stand there and talk down to you, especially not with potential lives at stake." If he could make it about the case, not about her, he had more of a shot at getting away with it.

He could practically see the gears turning in her head. Finally, she seemed to decide that there was nothing further she could say to him about it. "Well… thank you, David."

He smiled. "No problem."

Without another word, she opened the passenger-side door and climbed in. He circled around to take the driver's seat, and they sat in silence while he buckled up and started the car. Then, just to see what would happen, he turned to look at her. "Would you hold it against me if I told you that you  _are_  very beautiful?"

She made a show of rolling her eyes, but there wasn't much venom to it. She obviously wasn't taking him too seriously. "I'd probably let you get away with it."

He raised his brows in exaggerated shock. "Granger, is this Alabama spring thawing that frozen heart of yours?"

She fixed him with an icy glare. "Shut up, Rossi."

He threw the car into reverse. "No, really." He focused on the parking lot when he replied, not even having to look at her to know exactly which  _are you fucking kidding me_  look she was wearing. "You've been off your game lately, all bark and no bite."

"Don't mix your metaphors," she chided him, "it isn't flattering."

But when he snuck a peek at her once they hit the highway, her cheeks were tinged pink, and boy did he get a kick out of that.


End file.
